


Wanted: Dead or Alive

by romanticalgirl



Series: Bullet in the Barrel (of Your Best Guy's Gun) [1]
Category: Captain America
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassin Bucky Barnes, Gen, Misunderstandings, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Want Ad, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Steve sees an ad - someone's looking for a person to be an asshole to their bigotted family. He can do that. So he calls.The wrong number.Bucky Barnes is an assassin for hire who took out a want ad because business is slow.Hilarity ensues.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Bullet in the Barrel (of Your Best Guy's Gun) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584283
Comments: 47
Kudos: 351





	Wanted: Dead or Alive

**Author's Note:**

> There is a mention of the kind of people Bucky kills - very bad people, but nothing is expounded on, just listed.
> 
> For all the twitterers who encouraged.

Steve really hates Christmas.

His mom’s passed away, his friends are heading out of town to celebrate with their families. He was invited to tag along, but somehow the thought of being shoehorned into someone’s holiday is even worse than being alone.

All that changes when he sees the ad. 

_Wanted: Temporary asshole_

He’s not sure about temporary, but he knows every single person who’s known him for more than a week would agree he’s _definitely_ an asshole.

 _I have to spend the holidays with my bigoted parents and extended family. I don’t want to subject my real boyfriend to their nastiness, so I’m looking for someone who wants to make $500 for a weekend of making all my relatives never want to see me again_.

Steve looks at his bank balance on his phone and then at the ad. He switches to the actual phone and calls the number at the bottom.

“You calling about the ad?”

His voice sounds like something molten over gravel, gritty and sharp. Steve shivers at the sound. “Uh. Yes. I just have a few questions.”

“Not over the phone.”

“I… Okay? So you want to meet first?”

“You in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah. Down near —” 

“Meet me at Otto’s by the pier. Two hours.”

“How will I know it’s you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll know who you are.”

**

Steve is completely out of place at Otto’s. It’s badly lit, everything glinting with stickiness and neon. The music’s loud and incomprehensible, and Steve’s head hurts before the door even shuts behind him. 

He glances around, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders instinctively. Otto’s is the kind of bar Steve tends to get beaten up in. He walks to the bar, keeping himself as small and inconspicuous as he can, and waits for the bartender to notice him. Since there’s no one else there, the five minutes it takes is pointed.

“What’d’ya want?”

“Can I have a —” 

“I ain’t got none of that fancy shit you boys like. No umbrellas or frilly drinks. If you’re not going to order a real drink, then you can get your ass out of my bar.”

Steve straightens to his not-at-all impressive height and sticks his chest out. “Whiskey. Neat.”

The bartender snorts, but he pulls out a glass and polishes it with his apron, which probably only gets it dirtier. He grabs a bottle off the shelf behind him and pours three fingers of whiskey into the glass. Steve takes it and looks the bartender in the eye before finishing the drink in one long swallow. He sets the glass down, and his eyes may be watering slightly, but he’s not coughing. 

“Otto.”

Steve recognizes the voice from the phone and turns. 

And stops.

Because spending a weekend pretending to be this guy’s boyfriend is going to be the easiest five hundred bucks Steve has ever made. He doesn’t care how bigoted and horrible his family is. As long as Steve gets to stare at the guy, he’s coming out ahead.

“Friend of yours?”

He slides a bill onto the bar before taking Steve’s shoulder in his hand and turning him. “For the drink.”

“I can buy my —” 

He shakes his head, and Steve’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t let anyone silence him. Except this guy apparently. He leads Steve to a table and gestures toward the seat. Steve slides into the booth, watching as the guy sits on the opposite side.

“You saw my ad.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“You realize what I’m offering, correct?”

There’s a hint of an accent, like English isn’t the guy’s first language. It’s unfairly hot. “Yeah. I just need to know what you need from me.”

“A name.”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Very well.” He takes out a notebook and writes Steve’s name down. “Tell me about Steve. Habits. Hobbies. Job.”

“Right. You need to know this stuff.” He frowns and sighs, tilting his head. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.”

“Work?”

“Bookstore. Reading Rainbow? We specialize in LGBTQ+ books. Highlight local authors. Teach an art class on Tuesday nights.”

“Tuesdays.” The guy’s taking notes, writing down everything Steve says. Steve wonders if he has a bad memory, or he just wants to be sure to get it all right. 

“My friend owns a pizza place. Sometimes I help out there.”

“Pizza.”

“My favorite is pepperoni, sausage, olives, mushrooms, and extra cheese.”

The guy’s eyebrow goes up before he lifts his gaze to Steve. “What?”

“My favorite pizza.”

He looks back at his notebook. “I see.” 

Steve frowns when he doesn’t write it down, but shrugs it off. “So where do your parents live?”

His head snaps up again and his eyes hit Steve like a knife pinning him to the seat. “You don’t need to know that.”

“No, I know. I mean, I assume you’ll be driving. I was just curious. You know. How I should dress.”

“For a funeral.”

Steve nods. “They’re that bad, huh?” The guy doesn’t say anything, and Steve sighs. “Okay, well, I’m going to need to know some stuff about you. Where do you work?”

The guy’s look gets sharper, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I freelance.”

“Hobbies?”

“I’m a fan of _Law and Order_. I watch it a lot.”

“Okay. Good show. Sometimes, when I’m sick, I just stay in bed and marathon episodes, you know?” He puts his hands on the table. “About the money.”

“Yes. Very important.”

“You said five hundred?”

“Five thousand.”

“Whoa. Five thousand?”

“Trust me, no one wants less.”

“No, I mean, I’m not complaining. I just… I mean, that’s a lot of money.”

“Considering the circumstances, I don’t think it’s unreasonable.”

“Are your parents, like, Nazis or something?”

“No.” He snaps the word, sharp and angry, and the hand he has on the table balls into a fist. 

“I mean, they must be awful. You’d rather pay five thousand dollars than introduce your boyfriend to them? I mean, I’m trying to figure out how they can be that bad. Nazis was just the first thing that came to mind.”

The guy leans back against the walls of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. He rubs his tongue over his top lip, and then lets out a slow exhale through his nose. “Why are you here?”

“I answered your ad.”

“What exactly did my ad say?”

“You needed someone to go with you to your parents’ house and act like your boyfriend. You wanted them to be a complete asshole, because your parents are shitty people.”

“And the money?”

“You were going to pay me five hundred for the weekend. And, I mean, you can ask any of my friends, I can be a total asshole. Sam calls it my super power.”

“Do you have the ad?”

“Yeah.” Steve pulls the want ads out of his inner jacket pocket and unfolds it. He turns it around so the guy can see it. He taps it with his finger. “Right there. If the paper printed it wrong, you should call them and tell them they screwed up.”

The guy catches Steve’s finger and moves it to the ad next to the one he was pointing at. Steve frowns and turns the paper around, reads the ad, looks up at the guy, then pulls out his phone, looking at the number he dialed.

“Oh.” His voice is small, and he swallows hard. “This…. Uh. This says that you’re willing to… Uh. Help people deal with their problems permanently. Get rid of unwanted… Pests? To, uh. Exterminate? Or…” The guy shakes his head and Steve nods nervously. “Eliminate?” 

The guy’s mouth is curved in a smile. He puts his elbow on the table and leans in. His voice drops, and Steve licks his lips in a mixture of nervousness and embarrassing arousal. “Assassinate.”

“Yeah. You’re… You’re an…. That’s what you do.”

“My super power.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest again, the smile widening slightly. “Which you apparently don’t need.”

“No. I mean, if I did, I’d… You seem like you’d do a very good job. Of. Well, murder.” He can feel his hands shaking, because all he can think of is that in movies, when someone finds out something like this, they end up very dead. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Are you going to pay me to do it?”

Steve swallows. “No?”

“Then you’re safe.”

“But, I could tell someone?”

“You could.” He nods slightly, his tongue sliding along the bottom of his top teeth. “But you don’t have any proof.”

“Well, I… Um. Yeah.” He nods and frowns at the table, at his hands. He’s laced them together, and he’s rubbing one thumb over the other. His foot is bouncing slightly, nerves dancing underneath his skin. 

“Why would you want to be an asshole?”

Steve starts, taken aback by the question. “Well the ad says they’re bigoted and terrible, and if I can help someone out and stop people from bullying them, well. I don’t know. Seems like a good reason to be an asshole. Plus, normally I’m one for free, so it’s nice to get paid for something I’m good at.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t need an asshole, boyfriend or otherwise.” 

“Well, I don’t need an —” Steve drops his voice. “An assassin.”

“It’s a day job.”

“I… It’s _what_?”

“Day job.”

“Murder is a day job?”

“Yeah. I do it, I get paid. Therefore, job. Plus I do a lot of pro bono. You know, people who deserve it. Rapists. Abusers. Pedophiles.”

“Oh, good. So you have standards.” Steve knows he might sound hysterical at this point, but he’s managing to keep his voice down.

“Well, yeah. But I also have to make a living, so it’s not all wreaking vengeance on the scum of the earth. Sometimes they’re just really shitty people.”

“You know that’s not how the whole justice system and everything works, right?”

“I know my way makes sure they’ll never hurt another kid again.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkling. “And you know you can’t tell me that the justice system works. People get minimal time and there’s no rehabilitation. If they have enough money, they get away with it, even when there’s evidence. And I don’t ever get the wrong person.”

“It’s against the law.”

“Technically, so is jaywalking.”

“I…” Steve sighs and slumps a little. “I don’t have an argument for that.”

“So I guess we’re done.” The guy holds out his hand. Steve stares at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it. “Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.”

“Uh.”

“Oh. Sorry. Bucky.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow and looks at Steve. “Careful, I might have killed men for making fun of my name.”

“Have you?”

He gets to his feet and grabs his notebook, tucking it back in his pocket. “Or I could be a pathological liar and making all of this up.” Bucky winks at Steve, and then heads for the door. 

Steve sits there for a moment, then hurries out of the booth and the bar into an empty street. The whiskey was awful, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t just hallucinate this. 

“What the actual fuck?”


End file.
